


yield

by zucchinisquash



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23216590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zucchinisquash/pseuds/zucchinisquash
Summary: Riza's closest loved ones help her in a trying time.
Relationships: RoyAi
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Colonel Roy Mustang set down his pen and yawned. He glanced back at the papers he had been working on for at least an hour, then to the stack that he still had to do. He heard Lieutenant Hawkeye shuffle some of the papers on her desk around, the stacks equal in volume to his own. He frowned, today was the third day this week that the two had stayed late to try to make a dent in the ever growing files, but it seemed that the more they tried the more the piles grew. According to the clock, it was relatively early for nights like these, and he should be able to get at least a few more hours in. His vision had been blurring for the past ten minutes and now that he had yawned once, he couldn't seem to stop. He mumbled something about coffee and stretched, the thought of a steaming cup coaxing him from behind his desk and into the hall. It was still, and the moon spilled through the tall windows in luminous columns onto the floor and over his boots. They echoed heavy footsteps throughout the empty space; most of Central was sleeping at this hour. Halfway to the break room he realized that he hadn't offered any to Hawkeye. Sighing, he decided to turn back and spare having to make a second trip, or, heaven forbid, make her get her own. He opened the door and began to ask, but his offer came to a halt as he glanced in and was met with an impossibly rare sight: Riza Hawkeye, asleep at her desk.

He let out a little chuckle; even through the latest nights she didn't bat an eye. The ridiculous amount of consecutive all-nighters they had pulled in past busy seasons were not enough to knock her down, though the almost disgraceful amount of coffee probably had helped. A delicate and rare moment: Riza, with her guard down. He realized that she had not been shuffling papers earlier, but laying on them and presumably moving some out of the way to be more comfortable. Stepping into the room, he noticed her brow furrowed and tension in her jaw. Whatever sleep she seemed to be getting was not peaceful. He approached and gently touched her shoulder.

"Lieutenant, wake up," He shook her shoulder lightly, feeling the tension in her back. She stirred a little, then her breathing hitched and her face contorted with a look of terror.

"Lieutenant." It came out sternly, brimming with concern, mirroring the look on his face. His worry only grew when her eyes snapped open and he could feel her shaking. She sat up and pressed her hands to her eyes. He kneeled to face her, hand still on her shoulder, and through her panicked breaths he asked softly, "Ishval?"

She nodded. He looked away; the nightmares haunted him too. Panic attacks following them were not so foreign either. She spoke quietly, "P-please don't touch me right now, sir."

He drew his hand back immediately. "I'm sorry. You're going to be okay, try breathing with me, and focus on my voice." As he began the grounding technique, she lowered her head and took shaky breaths, hands falling from her face to a jumble on her lap. She dug her nails into her palms, listening: in, out, in, out… it helped, and after a few more breaths she could almost breathe normally again. She stared at her hands.

"Hawk—" Roy started quietly, but she cut him off, softly.

"Can I have a minute?" He stood and nodded, heading for the door. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you, sir."

He shut the door carefully and went to the break room: tea now sounded much better than coffee, and he was certain Riza would appreciate a cup.

—-

Riza Hawkeye had never fallen asleep on the job before. Never, not even in Ishval, with the hot desert sun beating her down and the endless days of dread weighing heavily on her shoulders, had she slept when she was supposed to be working. The past few weeks had been extremely tiring, what with all the paperwork due in two days and there being a sea of it left. This was not anything new, working under Colonel Roy Procrastination Mustang tended to be this way. She had not had time to eat lunch that day and chalked it up to a mixture of hunger and exhaustion. Still inexcusable, she scolded herself.

Then there was the matter of the nightmare and the panic attack. Over the last two weeks or so, especially after working late, her nights had been peppered with them, accompanied by a generally unsettled stomach. Usually she did not come face to face with the toilet bowl, but she had been a little too close for comfort to it more than she cared to admit. She was not sure why, nothing had explicitly happened to trigger her thoughts of Ishval or what she had seen there. Some were vivid to the point of screaming herself awake, which made her especially thankful for Hayate's comforting nudges. She briefly reflected on this while trying to get her hands to steady as soon as Roy had left the room.

He'd seen her like this before, but she still did not like feeling so vulnerable in front of anyone. He did help her calm down, since he knew how, and she let him stay longer than in the past. She always liked to have a few minutes to herself to pick up the pieces and get composed in the aftermath. This is what she was doing when Roy quietly opened the door and walked over to her desk, placing a steaming mug of her favorite tea, with honey and lemon, gently in front of her. She did not look at him, but rather the tea, the way his hands set it carefully down and went back to his sides. She gave a small nod of thanks and he walked back to his desk. She reached out and took a sip; it was perfect.

Mustang started packing up his desk, clearing his throat. "Whaddayousay we call it a night, Lieutenant?" he asked, shoving some papers in a briefcase and organizing the rest into messy piles. Riza looked up and lowered her tea.

"Sir, it's still early. There's still much to—"

"Finish tomorrow, exactly what I was thinking." He picked up the end of her sentence, twisting it to let her know that it was not a question, or a suggestion, but a finite decision. "Go home and get some rest." She tried to protest again, but he put up a hand to stop her. As he strode nonchalantly out of the room, tossed back, "I'm going to bring the car around, be down there in five." Riza sighed and began to pack up her things. She put the cup, now empty, on the edge of her desk while she finished sorting her remaining work. Once Roy had his mind set on something, it was almost pointless to argue. She had silently agreed to accept his offer for a ride home, partially because he did not stick around for her to decline, and partially because she did not want to walk the twenty minutes it took on nights like these. Usually she did not mind, but she was still a little shaken and though her mind was more at ease, her stomach began somersaulting. She slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up the cup, scanning the room one last time before flipping off the light and stepping into the moonlit hallway.

—-

Mustang had the car parked in front of the main entrance. He had tossed his jacket and briefcase in the back seat; it was a warm night and the windows were rolled down. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. It had been ten minutes, and he had just started to wonder if Hawkeye had snuck out the back and started to walk home when she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"What took you?" he asked, putting the car into drive and easing onto the main road.

"I stopped to take care of the teacup. Sorry to have kept you waiting, sir." She shrugged her bag onto the floor by her feet and removed her blue jacket. He noticed she was paler than before, her voice softer and a little scratchy. She sat back and put the jacket next to her, in between them. Stretching her arms, she yawned. Mustang glanced over at her and then back at the road. A few minutes of silence passed, broken when Roy took a right. Hawkeye frowned. "It was a left there…"

"Construction." He responded simply. They elapsed into a comfortable and tired silence, save for the rushing of wind and the sound of tires on asphalt. Riza rested her head against the side of the door so that the air was blowing on her face, a nice breeze to combat the night's heat and her seemingly inescapable nausea. She closed her eyes and yawned again. More than once, Roy found himself looking at her and savoring details with each glance: the moonlight on her hair, the stray strand that he wanted to tuck back into place, the gentle way her hands were sitting on her lap, the peaceful look on her face. She was sleeping again by the time he pulled up to the apartment complex that she lived in. He did not want to disturb her, but knew she would be sound asleep as soon as she got to her bed, not to mention much more comfortable than in the passenger seat of his car. He reached out to touch her but thought better of it and instead said gently, "We're here."

She woke up like it had been a huge surprise that she was asleep. A little disoriented, she picked up her bag and got out. Before she closed the door she thanked him for the ride, and he responded with an earnest nod. He pulled forward slowly and glanced at her in the rearview mirror walking towards the entrance of the apartment building, and before driving away, made sure she made it safely inside.

He was halfway home when he discovered her jacket was still in the front seat.


	2. Chapter 2

Riza felt terrible. She had not been this sick for a while, and the thought of having to endure a day or two of feeling crappy and being potentially useless, and laying around until she felt better made her feel worse. She was relieved that she fell asleep on the ride back, even if it was a little embarrassing. Falling asleep in Roy Mustang's car was a lot less embarrassing than throwing up all over it, which is exactly what she did to the toilet as soon as she got into her apartment. Hayate sat in the doorway of the bathroom and looked with curiosity at his owner. "Sorry, boy," Riza said quietly after retching. He turned and acted as a guard dog, eyes and ears alert for anything that could potentially harm Riza in her moments of vulnerability.

After the first bout passed, she cautiously got into her pajamas and put her hair up into a high bun, making sure to get her bangs out of her face. Bangs were always a hassle when vomit was involved, as was long hair. Better to get it out of the way early to avoid any nasty messes later. Filling a glass of water in the kitchen and taking a sip on the way back to the bathroom, she heard a soft knock at the door. She dreaded answering in her current state, not to mention the feeling of an imminent repeat of earlier. She debated just ignoring it, but a glance at the clock told her that anyone knocking this late had a good reason to.

Mustang stood with the jacket casually over his arm. It could be mistaken for his own—he had shed it when returning to Riza's apartment and was in a white button up collared shirt and uniform pants—but upon further observation it could be seen that it was several sizes too small. He knocked quietly; if she didn't answer he would just sneak in and drape it over the chair by her desk. Her spare key was hidden behind the molding around her door about four inches from the floor on the left side, she told him "in case of emergencies." Formalities, damn them. He knocked softly a second time, and a few seconds later Riza cracked the door open. Seeing it was him, she opened it a little wider, confusion spreading across her face.

"Roy?" A beat of silence passed before Riza realized what she had said. "Er, Colonel?" She squinted at the hall light; he could see it was dark in her apartment. Her voice sounded raspier than before, he thought perhaps from sleep. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her bangs were pulled back—the combined effect threw Roy just enough that it took him a bit to remember why he had come back in the first place. She waited another couple of seconds. "Sir?" He fumbled the jacket forward.

"Uh, you forgot your jacket in my car." He held it out. She reached slowly and took it. "Are you feeling okay, Riza?" She blinked at him, still squinting.

"Mmfine." she said, though her voice was a hair more high pitched than normal. That settled it, she was definitely not okay—he had used her first name and she barely noticed. He decided not to press it further, not wanting to make it worse. He remembered whenever she got sick when they were young, she never liked having him around. He figured she knew that she could always ask him for anything, whether it be to stay or to go away.

"Okay. Well if there's anything you need, you know where to find me."

"Thank you."

He nodded and turned to go, but spun back around at the last second. "Carpool tomorrow, right? Same time same place?" He had caught her right before she shut the door.

"Oh, yeah." There was an awkward pause.

"Have a nice afternoon, Lieutenant." he offered. She gave a small smile and nod before closing the door. Roy headed to his car, cursing himself. Have a nice evening? Damn it, Mustang! It's past midnight. Afternoon. He sounded like an idiot. It was not anything new, but it was still embarrassing.

As it turned out, Riza did not give two shits about the time of day or how Mustang mixed it up; she was preoccupied with her stomach revolting against any of her desperate wishes to settle. Eventually she set up on the couch with a glass of water and a large bowl. Getting up to rinse it out was a bit of a hassle, but she would rather be comfortable on the couch than cold on the bathroom floor. There was not a lot to get rid of, and she hated dry heaving almost as much as actually throwing up. She curled up on one end of the couch when her insides finally settled down. Sleep came quickly: she was already exhausted, and being sick compounded the strain on her body.

—-

Riza did not show up at the usual spot for the carpool the next morning. Roy had expected it; she was obviously unwell last night. He decided to give it another five minutes, in case she was (uncharacteristically and almost unfathomably) running late. He supposed there were several uncharacteristic happenings from the past few days. Roy passed the time by messing with the radio and drumming on the steering wheel. He pulled down the visor to check if his hair was perfectly tousled. It was, as always, he observed with satisfaction. He sat with the windows open and his head propped in his hand. Five minutes crawled by. Starting the motor, he decided a quick stop by her apartment to check up on her was acceptable, and warranted. Perhaps she had tried to call and cancel, or forgotten and walked, or, and this would be truly shocking, overslept. There were a slew of possibilities that ran through his mind as he drove. Most of them were not cause for much anxiety, but the few that were had him walking a little faster than usual when he parked and made his way to her door.

For a second his hand hung in the air, posed to strike. His hesitation passed as quickly as it had come on, and he gave three staccato knocks. He stood back and waited for a response that did not come, prompting him to lean close to the door and listen. Silence. He tried again, and again, no answer. He debated leaving, but thought that since he had made it this far he might as well quell his concerns. This was not the first time he had done something similar, though he does admit to himself that he was embarrassed to discover she was just in the shower as opposed to ill or missing. But they have an understanding. With that thought, he wiggled the key from its hiding place and unlocked the door. As he cracked the door and peered inside, he knocked loudly. From another room, Hayate let out a low growl.

Gingerly, he opened the door wider. "Lieutenant?" Silence. "It's Roy, I'm coming in." He did not hear anything except the creak of the door and Hayate jingling over to him. He bent down and patted Hayate, "Hiya, boy." Hayate tilted his head and barked, then turned and trotted to the living room. Roy followed, his footsteps sounding through the small hallway. He glanced into the kitchen on the way, and down the other hallway, before coming to a stop in the entryway to the living room. One look at Hawkeye, sound asleep on the couch, told him that she should not, and would not, be working today. He quietly walked over to the small desk and made quick use of a pen and some sticky notes. He stuck the note in what he calculated to be her direct line of sight for when she woke up. Not that the Hawk's Eye would ever miss a bright yellow note that had not previously been there. He then quietly called the dog, who had retreated to the bedroom, "C'mere, Hayate! Where's your leash?"

After walking Hayate and letting him back into Riza's apartment, he took one last glance around to make sure all was settled. Roy relocked the door and headed to the office. Ten minutes into the day, he noticed the rest of the team was looking curiously between him and Hawkeye's empty desk. Finally, Fuery spoke up.

"Excuse me, Colonel? Where's Lieutenant Hawkeye this morning?"

Mustang did not stop attending to his paperwork or look up. "She's taking a long weekend." He glanced nervously at his phone; when she woke up he knew there would be some stern words. The thought kept him on edge and he found himself working consistently until lunch. From then on he began the usual on and off, half-assed process in which he normally did paperwork. While idly trying to balance a pen on his nose, he quickly fumbled it back to his desk when his phone broke the silence with a shrill ring. He immediately picked it up, dread crowding his stomach. Before he could say so much as a hello, Riza's voice sounded loud and clear. Roy grimaced.

"What the hell, Colonel?"


	3. Chapter 3

Riza woke to Hayate nudging her hand, which was hanging off the edge of the couch. She groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes, then freezing at the sight of the bright yellow note on her coffee table and quickly grabbed it to pour over its contents. In Mustang's tidy scrawl she read, "I took care of it. Rest up!" she flipped it over. "P.S. I walked Hayate around 7:30." Riza then noticed the sun streaming into her living room and scrambled to find her watch. The windows faced West, and if she was getting sun…that idiot. "Three o'clock?" she exclaimed, jumping up and heading to the phone. He answered on the first ring, and she could practically see him flinch as the words flew out of her mouth. He must have recovered quickly, because his smooth, cool voice answered back, "Elizabeth, hellooo! How many times do I have to tell you, it's dangerous to call me at work."

Riza bristled. "Oh, we're going to play it like that, are we?"

Mustang laughed heartily. "Surely I don't know what you mean, Elizabeth."

Almost habitually, and out of spite, Riza twirled her hair around a finger and popped a hip. "Oh, Roy, now you listen here, and you listen good. If you don't explain yourself right now, I'm going to—"

Miles away, a certain Colonel's eyes widened and a faint blush crept up his neck.

Riza cocked an eyebrow triumphantly. "Now, are you going to talk, or am I going to have to make you?"

"My lieutenant, you ask? She's on a long weekend." He paused, she waited. "Oh, no, she'll be back Monday. Can't have fun for long, haha!"

"Sir, if you expect me to sit here and do nothing for the next three days you are sorely mistaken."

"Oh, that's exactly what I expect from you, Elizabeth. Although, I thought you already knew what I wanted."

Riza held the phone tighter. "You know security isn't tight right now, the Furher took a platoon of men to the East. I have to be there to protect—"

"Oh, you are too funny!" Mustang cut in, giving a short laugh. "You worry almost as much as my lieutenant."

"You can't stop me."

"But I can, darling. Just watch me." This was followed by a definitive, triumphant click.

Riza huffed and set down the phone, pausing for the first time since waking up to take stock of herself and her apartment. She needed food, a shower, and a few solid minutes tidying the living room and kitchen. Her toast did not sit well, and again she found herself sick to her stomach, delaying her plans of showing up at the office despite the colonel's cheeky declaration and approval of leave she never requested to take. She decided to lie down for a little bit to get the room to stop spinning, covering her face with her hands. There was technically only an hour and a half left before the offices shut, but that left the extra six or seven they had been pulling still wide open for completing paperwork. She took a deep breath and felt her body relax, sleep tugging at the edges of all of her thoughts. She woke again around seven o'clock but was too groggy to immediately feel any sort of shame at missing almost an entire day of work. Her head was pounding, and she realized she had barely drank the entire day. Stretching off of the sofa, she picked up a water bottle and started sorting through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. She thought she spotted the bottle of painkillers amongst the stocked meds and began to reach for it, accidentally knocking a slim box into the sink. She glanced down at it and froze, hand hovering and eyes going in and out of focus.

—-

Fuck. The evening was spent repeating the word in her head, trying to grasp what she now could not deny, and had left on the bathroom sink. Riza wrung her hands and paced her apartment, her restlessness causing Hayate considerable worry. He trotted along her heels, giving her leg a nudge with his nose whenever she stopped to change direction. Once or twice she bent down to pet him, but stood quickly when she felt tears in her eyes. She did not know what to do; the realization had ripped the ground out from under her and left her head spinning. Fear was not something Hawkeye routinely felt, being submerged in it from head to toe was almost unbearable. She sat heavily on the sofa and put her head in her hands and shortly soft sobs started to shake her. "What am I going to do?" she repeated quietly, Hayate hopping up and pressing against her. She pulled him closer and cried. After some time, when the post-crying-hiccups had subsided and the post-crying-headache had just begun, Riza made her way to the phone and gingerly picked it up. She took a breath and dialed. Hollow ringing bleated. Riza's heart pounded and she took another deep breath. Each unanswered trill was more anxiety inducing than the last, and finally on the ninth ring, it cut to voicemail. "Hi! You've reached the voicemail box of Rebecca Catalina! Leave a message if you're rich and single!" Riza let out a breathy laugh; Rebecca was certainly never shy about her ambitions. After the short instructional recording about how to leave a message after the tone, she cleared her throat and spoke quietly, "Hey Rebecca, it's Riza. Please call me back when you get this. Thank you." As soon as the phone hit the receiver it rang. The sudden, shrill sound made Riza jump in surprise before she quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"Goood evening Ms. Hawkeye, and how is Central City's own sleeping beauty fairing this fine evening?"

Riza released the breath she had not realized she was holding. Roy Mustang, that idiot. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath; she could not even think about how Roy was going to react. She was not even sure how she was reacting. His timing was uncanny.

"Colonel."

"Lieutenant." It was said with a hint of sass, the underlying tone of don't-you-Colonel-me. Most days it would have been humorous, but in her current situation Riza did not find it funny at all. It occurred to her that maybe he had seen Rebecca and could give a clue as to where she was this evening. Riza drew in a breath to ask but was interrupted.

"What's wrong?"

He sounded serious, tone no longer light and easygoing. Riza cursed silently. She took a second to respond, which was her mistake.

"Hawkeye."

She drew in a breath, steadying herself. She didn't want her voice to betray her, even though her silence already had.

"I'm fine."

He snorted. "Yeah, and I'm the First Lady of Amestris. What's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm just—" Riza was cut off by a knocking at the door.

"You're what?" His words were veiled with concern; she knew she could not bullshit her way out of his questions. She heard knocking again and rushed to end the conversation.

"I've got to go." She hung up the phone, thanking and cursing whoever was at the door. They saved her from outright lying to the Colonel, but now she had to face whoever was there. She quickly straightened her clothes; pajama pants and a faded tee shirt, hair pulled back uncharacteristically in a messy bun. The knock sounded again, and she called her approach as Hayate padded ahead of her toward the door. She opened it a crack and peered out cautiously to see who was there, and then flung it open completely.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ready to party, girlie?!" Rebecca Catalina stood in the doorway, a bottle of wine and several DVDs in tow. Riza blinked. Seeing the blank look on her face, Rebecca paused and squinted at her. "You didn't forget, did you? It's Friday! More specifically, the third Friday of the month." She wagged the bottle at Riza and stepped inside the apartment, going to the living room. Still dazed, Riza took a few more seconds before it hit her, and she felt foolish for forgetting: every month Rebecca and Riza got together on the third Friday. Riza had completely forgotten that it was her night to host. She shut the door and went to the living room where Rebecca was surveying the assortment of objects around. She eyed the bowl, the half eaten toast, the empty water bottles, and then finally Riza.

"Ri, what's all this? Are you sick?" Riza took a breath to respond but Rebecca talked on, "Oh, god I haven't checked my phone did you try to call me? Is that why you were so surprised when you answered the door?" Rebecca paused to actually look at Riza, taking in the smallest details. After a few agonizing seconds, she gently asked, "Have…have you been crying?"

Riza did not, could not, say anything. She could not move. This was going to be so much harder than she feared. Rebecca walked over and pulled Riza into a tight hug. Riza stood stiffly for a few seconds, then slowly relaxed into it. She was shaking, and Rebecca quietly started speaking.

"You'll be okay, okay? Whatever happened, it's going to be fine. You're going to be fine." she squeezed Riza once and then broke away to face her. "What...happened?"

Riza met Rebecca's eyes and felt tears spring into her own. Rebecca pulled her back into a tight embrace. "Oh, god," she said quietly. "Let's go sit down," Riza nodded silently into Rebecca's hair. They pulled apart and Riza sniffled. Settling down on opposite sides of the sofa and facing each other, each braced for what the other was going to say.

"Rebecca-" Riza started, and abruptly ended. Rebecca raised her eyebrows. Riza opened her mouth and closed it a few times before clenching her jaw and breathing in. She exhaled slowly. "I'm pregnant." Rebecca's eyes widened and she drew in a long breath.

"Holy shit. Holy shit." Rebecca spoke slowly; she hadn't realized what she said until after she said it. Riza looked to be on the brink of tears. Rebecca reached out and took Riza's hands. They sat, staring at the tangle of fingers on the couch cushion between them. Rebecca gave a gentle squeeze and asked, "Are you sure?"

Riza nodded. Rebecca let out a low whistle and a quiet, "Whoa." She drew small circles on Riza's hands with her thumbs. After a pocket of silence, she quietly ventured, "What are you going to do?" Riza shook her head and bit back a sharp sob.

"C'mere," Rebecca said, putting an arm around Riza. She cuddled right in, and after a moment or two resettled with her head on Rebecca's lap. Rebecca gently played with Riza's hair, braiding it and unbraiding it, running her fingers through the soft locks. Riza took a shaky breath. "What am I going to do?" she asked, barely a whisper. Rebecca stopped mid-braid and rubbed Riza's back reassuringly.

"It'll be okay, Ri." Riza nodded and curled further towards Rebecca. The phone rang, causing Riza to shoot up and look towards it. Rebecca shook her head and touched Riza's arm. "Just leave it, they can always leave a message." Riza curled back up with her head on Rebecca's lap, and they went back to how they had been. After a while spent in silence, Riza's breathing slowed and she faded into sleep. Rebecca carefully untangled her fingers from Riza's hair and sighed. She really did not know what Riza was going to do—though she did know that she would be there for her whatever came next. At least that much was certain. Suddenly, Hayate jumped up from his place on the floor next to the couch and growled, poised to spring toward the front door. Rebecca cautiously moved out from under Riza, making sure not to wake her. She was almost to the door when there was a soft knock. Rebecca glanced at her watch and hesitated; it was late. There was another knock, which she interrupted by quietly flinging the door wide open to reveal Roy Mustang, dripping wet and holding a plastic bag. Rebecca was the first to recover from the mutual shock of each seeing who was on the other side of the door. She tilted her head and stifled a small giggle.

"I didn't realize it was storming, Colonel Mustang. You look like you've had a good time…"

Roy didn't miss a beat. "I wasn't exactly singing in the rain, Lieutenant Catalina."

Silence ensued, in which they sized each other up. Rebecca raised an eyebrow and peered at the bag in his hand.

"What's in the bag? Actually, now that I think of it, what are you even doing here?" Roy knew Rebecca was straightforward, but her directness did catch him off guard. He stumbled for a response.

"Well, every Friday night we get together and have a late dinner—"

"Bullshit, it's girls night, which is always on a Friday night. Strike one, Mustang." Rebecca crossed her arms and shifted her weight. He cleared his throat, internally kicking himself for forgetting. Riza had mentioned something about it before—-that and Wednesday lunches—which she had missed this week due to finishing some last minute paperwork he had forgotten to do. He tried again.

"She called me and invit—"

"Ah-ah-ah, strike two. I've been here all evening." They locked eyes for a few seconds and Rebecca raised both eyebrows. "I'm waiting."

Mustang raised a hand to scratch the back of his head and looked away. Water dripped from his hair. His hand fell back to his side. There was another beat of silence.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. She did not know Roy that well, but she knew that there was a slim chance, if any at all, that he would ever hurt Riza. But she had to make sure. She stepped menacingly forward. "If you did anything," she stuck a finger in his face, causing Roy to lean back, "to Riza. Anything. I swear to—"

Mustang was taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. His brow furrowed and stepped forward, cutting Rebecca off. "Just wait a minute. The only reason I'm here is because I knew she wasn't feeling well and I wanted to check up on her, but she didn't answer her phone earlier." Rebecca did not move. The sudden rush of an explanation surprised both of them and caused Mustang to shrink back and awkwardly continue, "Ssooo I came over to make sure she was okay." His concern was not masked. Rebecca scrutinized his expression and body language—anxious, brow furrowed, obvious concern—and softened. He glanced behind her, "Is she okay?"

"She's…" Rebecca trailed off; she didn't know how to respond. Riza obviously was not fine, but it really was not Rebecca's place to tell him what was happening. She knew that. She also knew that, while she was normally a great liar when the situation required it, Mustang had a reputation for detecting bullshit. He stood, watching her.

"She's what?"

"Roy, I don't…it's not. It's not mine to tell." It was his turn to narrow his eyes.

"Is she okay?" Roy spoke slowly and deliberately through his teeth. Rebecca stayed still. "I'm not playing games here. Answer me." More silence. He looked down and exhaled. "Please."

"I told you, it's not my place. You can ask her yourself later, she's sleeping right now." Mustang nodded. He held up the bag,

"I brought some—"

"Rebecca?" Riza's voice made them both jump. "What are you doing ou—Colonel?" Riza's voice jumped a few pitches when she saw Mustang. She stood in the doorway, palms cradling her elbows. "What are you doing here?"

Mustang floundered for a second while Riza tossed a wide eyed and questioning look at Rebecca, who returned a small shake of her head. Riza visibly relaxed, knowing Rebecca had not said a word, and exhaled quietly. Not quietly enough to escape Roy's notice. He cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes.

"Lieutenant?"

Riza looked down and gave a small nod, avoiding his eyes. She stepped aside and let both Rebecca and Roy move toward the living room while she shut and locked the door. She paused, taking a deep breath, and tried to steady her shaking hands.


	5. Chapter 5

CW: implied assault

When Riza entered the living room, she found only Rebecca. "Where's—-?" was cut off by the distinct creak of the bathroom door closing. Riza's heart skipped a beat. Rebecca saw what little color was left in Hawkeye's cheeks quickly drain.

"What? What is it? Come sit down." She crossed the room and reached for Riza's arm.

"Th...the test." Her words were barely a whisper. Rebecca tensed, and they stared at each other in electrified silence.

"It's...is it in…." Riza squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lips, and nodded. After a short silence, Rebecca began whispering and moving them both towards the couch. "Maybe he won't even notice it, and even if he does, would he really even know what it is? Or how to read it? Maybe he'll think it's just a weird looking thermometer! What are the odds he just checks his hair and doesn't even glance at the sink? Wh—" They had been so caught up in Rebecca's rapidfire possibilities they had not heard the bathroom door creak back open, or Roy's footsteps as he approached. All froze mid gesture, and for a moment, time stopped. They all stared at each other with the same wide eyes. The silence came to a crashing halt as Roy and Rebecca started to speak at once, each trying to out loud the other, Rebecca going on about newfangled thermometers and how the flu seems to be going around early this year, Roy trying to start and finish any whole sentence, somehow making noise and blurting words, but not enough to be coherent. Suddenly, Riza put her foot down and snapped,

"Hey!"

Both Rebecca and Roy stopped, not breaking eye contact with one another, mouths still agape. "It is late. I have neighbors. Please contain your rukus." Their mouths closed, and in a moment everyone in the room was studying the floor. Riza took a deep, audible breath, trying to calm her nerves and shaking body. Rebecca looked at her and began softly,

"Ri, I—" Riza looked away, directly to Mustang.

"Sir. I think you should sit down." Nobody moved. She tried again, "Let's all...let's all have a seat." More silence. Her face fell, and she suddenly sounded small, "Please."

This snapped Mustang out of whatever petrified state he was stuck in. All three quietly padded to their places, Roy taking the armchair, Riza and Rebecca settling on the sofa. Roy leaned forward and looked directly at Hawkeye.

"Lieut...Riza." She met his gaze. "Are you alright?" His tone was soft, his face etched with concern. She stared down at her hands.

"I don't know, sir. Roy. I…" she trailed off, eyes sliding sideways to Rebecca, who sat with her face propped in her hands and was studying them intently.

"Riza, what happened?" His was the small voice this time, laced with worry, fragile around the edges. Rebecca's brow furrowed.

"What do you...excuse me, Roy, what do YOU mean, what happened?"

Riza did not look up from her hands. They felt very far away from her, the whole room felt far away. She was dizzy, and the voices around her were beginning to get fuzzy.

There was a tense silence. Rebecca spoke again.

"You mean you didn't…" Mustang looked at his hands and shook his head. Rebecca frowned. "You ...never…?" She did not finish the sentence, her heart began to race even faster than before. He gave the smallest of head shakes, nails now digging into his palms. Her attention snapped squarely to Riza, whose shallow breaths were becoming faster. Roy was beginning to shake. Rebecca gently reached out a hand towards Riza, who pleaded, "Please, d-don't touch me right now." Hayate jumped up on the sofa and wriggled his way onto Riza's lap. She hugged him tightly and hid her face behind him.

"I'll kill him." The words were barely audible, seething, hissed between clenched teeth. Riza shook as a sob escaped and Rebecca wrapped her arms around both Riza and Hayate. She stared at Roy, who met her eyes. There were tears in both, and an understanding.

Hawkeye began to let go of any stubborn composure left and sobbed in earnest. Rebecca held her, gently rubbing circles across her back. Roy cautiously reached out a hand and, with the utmost care, placed it softly on Riza's shoulder. Rebecca shot him a warning look to which he winced, nodded, and began to retreat. To everyone's surprise, Hawkeye let out another sob and reached up to find his hand, guiding it back to her shoulder and placing hers on top of his. They sat like this for minutes, only the sounds of a clock ticking and a woman finally letting go. After the initial shakes subsided, Rebecca softly suggested a shower and some food. She pointedly made eye contact with Mustang, and then subsequently looked at the things around the room that she was sure Hawkeye would want cleaned up. She finished with a lasting head tilt from the plate of half eaten toast to the kitchen, and Roy understood. After Riza let her hand fall from his and leaned fully into Rebecca with an exhausted sigh, he quietly stood. Rebecca gave a gentle squeeze and began coaxing,

"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up." Riza did not look at either Roy or Rebecca, just sniffled and nodded. Roy quietly went to the kitchen to get out of the way and heard, "Alright, up we go!" followed by some feather footsteps and the creak of the bathroom door shutting. He was still shaking himself, and cursed when he noticed his vision blur and water sliding down his cheeks. He returned to the living room and quickly tidied up, recycling water bottles, setting glasses and the bowl by the sink, slipping the toast to Hayate and finally unloading the bag he had come to deliver in the first place.

Rebecca turned on the shower, a rush of water eventually followed by a haze of steam that clung to the mirror and soothed Hawkeye's raw throat. The sound softened the edges of the scene: Riza sitting on the edge of the toilet seat cover, Rebecca on the rim of the tub, clasping hands between them and waiting in cautious silence for the other to speak. As usual, it was Rebecca who tried first.

"Riza..."

Riza shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, "I can't. I can't...say it." She cast a glance at the door, images of the man beyond it briefly running through her head and the tears spilled over again. Rebecca shook her head and squeezed their hands.

"He can't hear us in here. Plus he's got an assignment right now too. You have my discretion, Riza, in whatever you need to say or not say."

Silence passed, and a few times Riza opened her mouth to speak, only to find no words would come out. She glanced at the shower and mentioned what a waste of hot water it was. Rebecca gave a nod and broke away to stand by the sink and give Hawkeye privacy as she got into the shower. Rebecca stared down at the small pink plus which had wreaked havoc on this Friday night, futures and dreams thrown into doubt and flux due to a small flutter of cells constantly duplicating. A partner, a child, both things she could not see her future without. She knew it was almost the opposite for Riza, or at least a great deal more complicated. But she also knew that Riza was a woman with a support system, and therefore a woman with options. The water shut off and steam hung in the air and the surfaces of the room, the small fan whirring its best to clear it with little to no effect. Riza stepped out with a towel wrapped around her, hair dripping. Rebecca held up a comb and tilted it toward Riza, who nodded and sat back where she had been fifteen minutes ago. Rebecca carefully combed Riza's hair, gently working out knots from the bottom and parting it in Riza's usual way.

"You good to finish up here?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"I'll be right back, I'm gonna bring you some pajamas."

"Rebecca...thank you." Rebecca gave a small smile and a not before slipping into the relatively chill air of the hallway. She shut the door and took a deep breath. She glanced toward the living room and was met with the piercing and desperate question of Roy's expression. She shook her head and turned to Riza's bedroom.

Roy surveyed his work: a tidy living room and a small tray with an assortment of soothing food and beverages. Her favorite soup from the shop by the market, a can of ginger ale, saltines, water, a small teacup in case she wanted herbal blend instead, and bread prepped in the toaster. He had worked efficiently, focusing on his hands, focusing on the details of the room, of the food, narrowly avoiding the inevitable wreck that was looming over his head at every moment. He sighed and smoothed his pants with his hands, taking a seat on the sofa and staring at nothing in particular in front of him. Riza and Rebecca soon joined him, Riza in pajamas and slippers, a small blanket draped around her shoulders. The soothing aroma drifting from the bathroom calmed the room. Riza's expression softened as she took in the spread of choices. She noted the soup.

"You went to east town, sir?"

His face relaxed and he continued to stare forward. "I had to drop off some of the files out that way. It worked out nicely."

"Thank you." She started with water, the safest option, to ease her body into keeping something down for the first time in about a day.


End file.
